A recipe for when you’re craving a little nostalgia
When my parents used to ask what I wanted to be when I grew up, my answer was always: “a Bertolli-grandma.” Of course, I had no clue that Bertolli is actually a 100% Dutch brand and anything but Italian. But still...the dream stuck. Cooking for family. Long tables. Crusty bread. Bottles of wine. Always snow-white napkins (don’t ask me why, but somehow that detail lived in my imagination). Afternoons slowly melting into evenings filled with stories.
And what would I cook? Only one thing: Tagliatelle alla Bolognese.
Because if there’s one classic that has truly earned its place in the history of food, it’s this one. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve eaten it and just as often, tried making it myself. But somehow, that real Italian version always slipped through my fingers. Until now.
Over the past few weeks, I’ve devoured two books from cover to cover:
✦ Permaculture Gardening: A Sustainable Guide to Cultivating Abundance
✦ Essentials of Italian Cooking
The first is a lifesaver when, like me, you’re a city girl suddenly finding herself in a vegetable garden. I love it but let’s be honest: I have no idea what I’m doing.
The second? My newest bible. I think I’ve read it at least four times already and every word is etched into my memory. It may be from the 90s, but everything in it still rings true today. It captures Italian cooking exactly as it is: timeless, honest, warm. Every essential ingredient explained in detail (which makes sense, given the title). And the recipes? Simply to die for. Including, of course, the recipe for the one and only Tagliatelle alla Bolognese.
It takes a little patience and time. But it’s worth every second. I promise.
La pazienza è l’ingrediente segreto.
What I use
✦ 2 carrots
✦ 2 onions
✦ 2 celery ribs
✦ Olive oil
✦ Ground beef (around 250 g)
✦ Ground pork (around 250 g)
✦ Bottle of tomato pulp
✦ A splash of red wine
✦ Tagliatelle (of course)
✦ Salt
How I made it (but feel free to do it your way; trust your gut)
✦ Started by chopping the celery, carrot and onion.
✦ I warmed the olive oil and started to sauté the onion first
✦ Then I added the carrot and celery. Stir gently, let everything mingle.
✦ Browned the meat and then deglazed it with a splash of red wine. You could go for a fancy one, or use cooking wine. Don't worry, the alcohol cooks off, it's a alcohol free meal.
✦ Once the alcohol was cooked off, I stirred in the tomato pulp.
And then it was time to sit back and relax. I let the sauce simmer gently for at least 2 hours.
✦ I boiled the pasta in fully boiling and salty water. Think as salty as the sea. Don’t worry, you won’t taste the saltiness. When the pasta was just al dente, I tossed it straight into the sauce.
Don’t rinse the pasta under cold water. That starch is the secret to perfect sauce pairing, and cold water is its enemy. Simply drain, and you’re good.
Why durum wheat deserves a spot in your kitchen
Pasta and Italian cuisine go together like… well, pasta and Italian cuisine. What started out as a humble carb has become more than just a dish, it’s a love language. At its heart lies durum wheat semolina, the golden grain that gives pasta its soul.
Health-wise: crack open a grain of durum wheat and you’ll find simple, honest energy. Carbohydrates; your built-in fuel for everything you do. Alongside them, a generous dose of protein, known more famously as gluten. Beyond its reputation, gluten from durum wheat helps lower the risk of heart disease and type 2 diabetes. Hidden inside this modest grain, you’ll also find fiber, a quiet supporter of maintaining a healthy gut flora.
Taste-wise: durum semolina is what makes pasta taste like pasta. It brings a subtle nuttiness, a fullness that holds its own even before a single drop of sauce touches it. It’s what gives every spaghetti strand and penne tube that perfect bite. That little resistance that makes you smile for just a moment.
Life-wise: pasta whispers a truth we often forget: we don’t need more. We already have enough. Pasta has only two ingredients: flour and eggs or water and eggs. Two. Just two. And somehow, it tastes like everything.
Your turn
We all learn cooking in our own way. From our mothers, our grandfathers, a holiday abroad or a happy accident at home. These moments shape your taste, the ingredients shape your style. But taste and style are not fixed; they move along with the rhythm of your life.
A meal is never just a meal. It’s a memory. A moment. Your moment. So don’t think of recipes as strict rules. Think of them as gentle directions, little suggestions along the way. A here-and-now moment. And it's entirely yours. Because nobody tastes what you taste. Play with food, dance in your kitchen and find your own taste.
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